


the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine)

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Demon Summoning, End of the World, Fluff and Crack, Halloween, Love Potion/Spell, Magic, Pre-Apocalypse, spite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:17:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: John Murphy was going to bring about the apocalypse if it was the last thing he did.  And, really, with the apocalypse and all, there was a high chance it would be.But what a glorious way to go out, with fire and chaos and probably zombies.That’d teach Bellamy to stop telling him what to do.





	the end of the world as we know it (and i feel fine)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello hello! Welcome to the third round of Chopped!
> 
> In this round, we had to take a scene/plotline from canon and change it to fit into a modern au. Mine uses the general Octavia/Atom romance/storyline from season one but featuring Memori instead.
> 
> Other prompts in this round are:  
\- Magic!  
\- "You expect me to do X?" *cut to them doing X*  
\- Secret Places!  
\- Love Potion!  
\- Halloween!
> 
> This is a whole pile of crack that I wrote while on too much cold meds so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Update: This fic won:  
1st Place Sex Pollen/Love Potion!  
1st Place Halloween!  
2nd Place Magic AU!  
3rd Place Overall!  
3rd Place “You Expect Me To X?”  
3rd Place Secret Places!  
Thank you to everyone who voted!
> 
> Have fun reading!

Murphy first met Emori when she fell into him on the Skytrain. He’d caught her, probably made some dumb comment about her falling for him, and they’d chatted and flirted until she had to get off at her stop.

He didn’t realize she’d stolen more than just his heart until he went to pay for his takeout and discovered that his wallet was missing.

He didn’t find out she was Bellamy’s ex-foster sister and therefore off-limits until a few weeks later when Octavia had run into her in town and brought her to their apartment for dinner.

That was four months ago, and he’d been in love with her ever since.

So Murphy stood in his living room, surrounded by a bunch of drunk people in costumes, half of whom he didn’t have the faintest idea who they were, trying to convince himself to stop.

Because Emori was off-limits, just as much as Octavia was. You didn’t try to date your friends’ siblings. It was basic bro code.

As much as he loved Emori, there was the fact that if he ever made a move, he’d have to deal with Bellamy. He’d seen Bellamy go all big brother before. It’d even happened to him, once, when he’d made the mistake of jokingly hitting on Octavia. He wasn’t exactly excited to have to deal with that again.

And, as he later found out, Emori’s brother Otan had died a few years back, which made Bellamy and Octavia all the family she had left, which meant Bellamy wouldn’t be letting up.

So he didn’t say anything and pined away in secret and hoped she’d make a move one day because no amount of his somewhat justifiable fear of Bellamy would get in the way of knowing she’s just as into him as he is to her.

It was a little bit harder to stick to his no funny business rule when he was halfway to being drunk and she was dressed like that. 

It wasn’t even like her costume was overly sexy. She was dressed like a pirate. Not even a slutty pirate. She had a poofy white shirt and a vest and boots and a sword and a bandana in her hair, and was laughing at something Harper the unicorn was saying.

Fuck, he was gone, wasn’t he?

Someone bumped into him, dumping half their beer down his back, and he swore at them. Stupid drunk people being drunk.

The party wasn’t even his idea. If he’d had a choice, he’d have gone to a Halloween party at someone else’s house.

But no. According to Octavia, his and Bellamy’s apartment had the better vibes and she’d just had to look at her brother and then they were suddenly throwing her Halloween party at their apartment.

If you asked Murphy, he was pretty sure vibes had nothing to do with it. He’d heard from Monty that Octavia was on her last strike for noise violations at her own apartment, so that was far more likely the actual reason she’d insisted they throw it here.

His living room was going to be trashed, but whatever. He could make himself scarce until Bellamy had it cleaned up. Or they could make Octavia clean it up, since this whole thing was her idea.

Someone was pushing through the crowd, and he glanced up in time to catch Octavia striding his way.

Speak of the devil, and she shall appear.

Literally, in this case, considering she’d gone on the sexy devil costume route.

Not that he thought Octavia was sexy. Fuck. He hoped Bellamy hadn’t developed mind reading abilities in the last few hours.

“Shot?” she offered, holding one out, and he accepted, downing the tequila in one burning mouthful.

He found his gaze drifting back to Emori, wondering if it’d be weird to go talk to her and then internally punching himself because standing here staring at her was infinitely more weird than just going and talking to her.

“What are you even supposed to be?” Octavia asked, and he forced his attention back on her.

“Apocalypse,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow. “From that X-Men movie?”

Octavia just shrugged and walked away again, refilling her shot glasses with the bottle of tequila that Murphy hadn’t noticed under her arm and offering them to the next guests.

Honestly, he didn’t blame Octavia for dismissing his costume. It wasn’t like he was obsessed with the X-Men or Apocalypse specifically or anything.

He and Miller had done some drinking game while they’d watched the movie, one that probably should’ve killed them, and then he’d apparently ordered the costume online because a week later, it had been delivered to his house. He’d ended up waiting too long to return it and he was definitely too cheap and lazy to find a different costume.

So Apocalypse it was. Clarke had even painted his skin blue.

It was a dumb costume, but he was working it.

He decided to finally go talk to Emori again, and she smiled at him as he crossed through the throng of people. He smiled back and was almost there when someone blocked his path.

“We need more ice,” Bellamy said. Not even a _Hey, Murphy_ or a _How’s the party going, Murphy?_ He was dressed as the Han Solo to Clarke’s Princess Leia, and Murphy had tried earlier to not be jealous of how much cooler he looked, but that was before he’d had anything to drink and before no one had understood his costume.

Murphy blinked at him, shaking his head. “And?”

“And,” Bellamy repeated, drawing out the word, “I need you to go get more.”

He left again before Murphy could even answer, like he didn’t think there was any reason why Murphy wouldn’t just go get more ice. Murphy caught Emori’s eye and sighed, offering her a shrug as he headed for the door, making sure to grab Bellamy’s wallet instead of his own.

Emori caught up with him in the elevator, eyebrows raised.

“What are you doing?” she asked, leaning back against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest.

“We need more ice apparently.” Murphy sighed, moving his headpiece a bit so he could scratch his head. Why hadn’t his drunk ass ordered a different costume? “Bellamy wants me to get more.”

Emori rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, in a way that made it seem like it definitely was not nothing. “I just wasn’t aware you’re Bellamy’s bitch.”

The doors opened onto the lobby, but Murphy just stood there, staring at her.

“What?” he repeated. “No. I’m not Bellamy’s bitch. I’m not anybody’s bitch.”

Emori just rolled her eyes again, starting for the door. “Are we getting ice or not, John?”

On the one hand, they needed ice. On the other hand, getting ice was exactly what Bellamy wanted him to do.

“No,” he decided, reaching out to pull Emori back onto the elevator. “We’re not. If Bellamy wants ice, he can get it his damn self.”

Emori smirked at him as she let him tug her back onto the elevator, and he hit the button for his floor with a little too much force.

“I’m not his bitch,” he told her again, and she shrugged.

“I mean, you did just leave the party because he told you to get ice,” she pointed out, which was an unfairly valid point. “And you hit on me until you found out I was his foster sister.”

“It was also until I found out you stole my wallet,” he pointed out instead of admitting that she’d figured that situation out perfectly.

Emori shrugged. “I gave it back,” she said, like that was all that mattered about the situation. Murphy wasn’t about to admit that the fact that she’d stolen his wallet had just made him more into her. That would not be getting him any points here.

“Not all of it,” he grumbled instead, still bitter she’d used his free smoothie coupon. He’d been looking forward to his free smoothie.

“Whatever.” She waved her hand, dismissing his words. “My point is, Bellamy’s not my keeper. He was my foster brother for like half a year. He doesn’t get to control my life, and you shouldn’t let him control yours.”

The elevator doors opened, and Murphy followed Emori back towards his apartment and the party, silently fuming.

What the actual fuck? Where did that even come from?

He wasn’t Bellamy’s bitch. That wasn’t even—no. If anyone was anyone’s bitch, then Bellamy was his bitch.

He was _not_ Bellamy’s bitch.

That would be ridiculous.

Octavia appeared just inside the door like a magic tequila fairy, and Murphy took two shots from her before moving back into the party.

Bellamy found him a bit later, when he and Raven—who was wearing apparently functional Iron Man suit which put his own store bought Marvel costume to shame—were kicking Monty and Jasper’s—Mario and Luigi, respectively—butts at a game of beer pong.

“Did you get the ice?” he asked, and Murphy took the time to carefully line up his next shot before turning to face him.

“You can get your own damn ice,” he snapped. “You’re not the boss of me.”

Raven laughed loudly beside him, and he could see Emori nearby, but didn’t know if she was paying attention.

He turned his own attention back to the game, and Monty glanced between him and Bellamy for a second before tossing the ping pong ball and sinking it in a cup. Jasper followed the lead and sunk it in the same cup, and Murphy swore, picking up his drink alongside Raven and chugging while the group gathered around them counted to twenty—as was the rules of pong when the cups were filled with water instead of beer and both balls were sunk in the same cup.

When he finished and Raven was moving aside the cup and another of Monty and Jasper’s choice, he turned back to Bellamy, who hadn’t moved from his spot next to him.

“What?” he snapped, because Bellamy was just staring at him.

“Don’t drink too much,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want to have to clean up your puke.”

“Fuck off, Bellamy.” Murphy flipped him off as he walked away, and then he returned to his game.

Did he proceed to double down on drinking just because Bellamy told him not to? Yes. Yes, he did. Because he wasn’t Bellamy’s bitch so he didn’t have to listen to him. So there.

The rest of the night was spent bouncing from friend to friend and doing the opposite of anything Bellamy told him to do or not to do. He let Miller—a very drunk zombie—go on and on about some dude he definitely did not have a crush on. He took way too many shots every time Octavia and her endless tequila came around. He stuck close to Emori, leaning on her and flirting with her as much as someone at his level of drunk could.

When Bellamy suggested he drink some water, he knocked the offered cup so it spilled over Bellamy and chugged Emori’s cup of straight vodka instead, flipping him off the entire time. When Bellamy told some of Octavia’s friends to get off the coffee table, he hopped right up and started dancing. When Bellamy started trying to herd people out the door, he started handing out more drinks.

There was a part of him that was doing all this just to piss off Bellamy and prove that he wasn’t his bitch. But there was another, drunker part of him that had convinced the rest of him that in proving he wasn’t Bellamy’s bitch, Emori would finally fall in love with him.

He might’ve gone a little overboard on the whole drinking thing.

Eventually, there was just a group of them left despite Murphy’s best efforts, gathered on the couches and sipping the last of their drinks.

“So you’re what?” Jasper slurred, leaning too heavily against him. “Ninja Smurf?”

Murphy rolled his eyes and moved Jasper off of him, sending him tumbling onto Harper.

“I’m Apocalypse,” he told him, probably for the hundredth time that night. Jasper just kept coming up with new blue characters to compare him to. “From that X-Man movie. He tries to cause the apocalypse or some shit but he’s a bitch so it doesn’t work.”

Raven laughed. “So you’re saying you’d do better?”

That hadn’t been what he was saying, but it was definitely what he was saying now.

“Fuck yeah I would,” he declared, raising Octavia’s pitchfork in the air to emphasize his point. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up with it or when, but it wasn’t that concerning. He was now the proud owner of a plastic pitchfork. There were worse things he could have accumulated over the night. “I could cause a fucking amazing apocalypse if I wanted to.”

Everyone laughed.

“Why would you want to cause the apocalypse?” Clarke asked. One of her fake buns had fallen off during the night and someone had clipped it on top of Bellamy’s head.

“I’m not saying I _want _to cause the apocalypse,” Murphy pointed out, rolling his eyes. Obviously he didn’t want to end the world. What was that Guardians of the Galaxy quote? He was one of the idiots who lived on it. Why would he want it to end? “I’m just _saying_ that if I _wanted to_, I could do it. And it would be fucking spectacular. With, like, zombies and aliens and shit.”

Monty was nodding at him. “I mean,” he said. “If any of us is gonna cause the apocalypse one day, Murphy would probably be my bet.”

Everyone voiced their agreement, and Murphy raised his pitchfork again, bowing his head in acceptance of their approval.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Bellamy muttered, from his place on an armchair under Clarke. “One person couldn’t cause the apocalypse. You need, like, a fuck ton of events for that to happen. Murphy couldn’t do it.”

Murphy had not really been paying attention to Bellamy, instead watching Emori in what he hoped was a subtle way but with how drunk he was it was unlikely. He was drunkenly contemplating how she’d react if he crossed the room and just kissed her—just a fantasy, really, because he was not drunk enough to really think that would be a good idea.

But those last four words dragged his attention back to his roommate.

_Murphy couldn’t do it._

Well, fuck that.

He was standing before he realized it was happening, swaying heavily as his vision swam. He pointed his pitchfork in Bellamy’s general direction with a glare, staring him down.

“Fuck you, Bellamy,” he said, and Bellamy had the audacity to look confused. “You’re not the boss of me. I’m gonna end the fucking world, and then you’ll be fucking sorry!”

Someone might’ve laughed and Emori was definitely grinning at him, so that was a plus, but Murphy didn’t have a chance to take in anyone else’s reactions because he was crumpling to the floor in a drunken, passed out mess.

Murphy was feeling significantly less hung over than he should’ve been, which meant that Emori must’ve given him her magic hangover cure sometime between his dramatic passing out and whatever point someone had moved him to his bed. Fuck, he loved her.

No one, however, had thought to wash off his body paint, which meant his sheets and pillow were now streaked in blue. Which, whatever. Either it’d wash out or he now had streaky blue sheets. No biggie.

It wasn’t until he was making himself breakfast that he remembered his proclamation from the night before.

Had he really decided to end the world just to spite Bellamy?

Yeah, he had.

Fuck. Okay. That was a new development in his drunken shenanigans.

He was sober now. Maybe a better person would’ve figured out that maybe this was one point where he didn’t really need to prove Bellamy wrong. Maybe they would’ve decided that ending the world wasn’t worth being right.

But no one had ever said that Murphy was particularly rational or a good person, so the apocalypse it was.

He’d look pretty great in apocalypse clothes, right? Right. This was good for everyone.

Bellamy and Clarke stumbled out of Bellamy’s room while he was still eating and contemplating how, exactly, he could go about ending the world, and it was clear that Emori had not shared her magic hangover cure with them, which just put him in a better mood.

“Are you still planning on ending the world?” Clarke mumbled, sinking into the chair next to him and dropping her head on the table.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” Murphy confirmed around a mouthful of cereal, smirking into the kitchen at Bellamy.

Bellamy turned away from the coffee pot and frowned at him. “This is a terrible idea,” he said, and Murphy shrugged. No one had said it was anywhere near a good plan. Bellamy sighed, glancing around the room. “We need to take down the decorations today.”

Murphy reached out, poking at one of the skulls that had taken up residence on the table.

“No,” he said. “Fuck that. I like them. I think they should stay forever.”

Bellamy sighed again, dropping into a seat and pushing a cup of coffee in front of his girlfriend. “They need to come down.”

“Fuck you,” Murphy declared, and Clarke looked away from her coffee long enough to shoot him a look. “We both live here, not just you. You don’t get to just decide things.” He held out a fist. “Rock paper scissors. I win, we keep the decorations. You win, they come down.”

Bellamy stared flatly at him for a moment before sighing and raising his own fist.

Murphy laughed a little maniacally as he hit Bellamy’s scissors with his rock. “They’re really great inspiration,” he said, poking at the skulls again. “Ready to be joined by some real ones soon?”

“That’s a little morbid,” Clarke muttered into her coffee, and Murphy couldn’t say he disagreed.

He decided in the shower that the first step of his End The World Because Fuck You Bellamy plan would be calling Emori. This was for multiple, equally important reasons including:

  1. Emori would probably be essential in surviving the coming apocalypse and they could kick ass and kill zombies and shit together as like a date or something,
  2. Ending the world would definitely prove he wasn’t Bellamy’s bitch, so clearly Emori had to be there to see that,
  3. Emori probably had some ideas on how to end the world, which would be very helpful because as of right now he had exactly zero, and
  4. He’d never give up a chance to see Emori.

Emori, after laughing at him, told him that unfortunately she couldn’t help him end the world today because she had to work.

_“I have some spell books though,”_ she said. _“I can bring them over on my way and you can have a look at them.”_

Murphy really wasn’t sure what Emori was doing with spell books, but he wasn’t about to complain. He hung up with her and dialed another number.

_“Hello?”_ Miller asked, voice rough from sleep.

“Hey. Wanna help me piss off Bellamy?”

Miller laughed. _“Obviously. I can be there in twenty.”_

“This is my favourite large creepy spider,” Murphy said, gesturing at the oversized hairy monstrosity hanging on the wall. “I’ve named him Bringer Of The End. He eats tacos and small children. Bellamy doesn’t approve of the name.”

Emori laughed, and he couldn’t help but grin at the sound.

“What about small child tacos?” she asked, following him to the living room.

“Those are his favourite.” Murphy flopped onto the couch, grinning up at her. “We’re keeping up the decorations forever.”

Emori sat beside him, dumping the contents of her bag onto the table. “And Bellamy was okay with that?”

Murphy scoffed. “Fuck no,” he said. “Bellamy wanted to take them down, but I won. Who’s the bitch now?”

Emori rolled her eyes and picked up a book instead of commenting. Which, fair.

“These are in Latin,” she told him, and he leaned forward to look at the pages she was flipping through. “I’ve written bits of translation in some of them, but make sure you actually know what you’re casting before you do it.”

Murphy nodded along. “And these actually work?”

He was a little skeptical. Really, he loved her, but actual working spell books was still a little far fetched.

Emori smiled at him and closed the book. “Want a demonstration?” He nodded.

She held her hands out in front of her and closed her eyes, mumbling under her breath. It started slow, a bit of a blue glow over her palms, and then suddenly the blue erupted into a dozen glowing butterflies, gracefully dancing around the apartment.

“Holy shit,” he whispered and held out a hand. One landed on it, and he turned away from it to look at Emori.

She was smiling at him still, a butterfly perched on her head. “Proof enough?” she asked, and he just nodded again.

Emori waved again, and the butterflies darted out the window and into the city.

“I have to get to work,” she pointed out, standing up and Murphy wished she didn’t have to go, that there was something he could do to make her stay.

But it was work, so he didn’t think there was anything he could really do to make her miss that, so he stood up and walked her to the door.

“I can come over tomorrow,” she told him. “To, you know, help with the end of the world.”

“That’d be awesome,” Murphy said, grinning at her.

And then she was gone and he was left wondering whether he could’ve or should’ve kissed her then.

And then the someone was knocking on the door, and he was throwing it open, thinking she’d come back to do just that, but it was only Miller.

“Oh,” Murphy said, sighing. “Come in.”

Miller followed him through the apartment. “How are we pissing off Bellamy?” he asked, and Murphy turned to smirk at him.

“We’re gonna start an apocalypse.”

Miller stared at him for a moment. “Does it have to be the apocalypse?” he asked, and Murphy nodded. “Okay. Sure. Let’s piss off Bellamy.”

Bellamy and Clarke remerged from his room as they were spreading out the spell books, and they both stopped in the doorway, staring at them.

“What are you doing?” Clarke asked, and Murphy just shrugged.

“Ending the world,” Miller said, and the scoff that came from Bellamy was enough to get Murphy carefully constructed blank face to crack.

“What—you can’t—that’s not,” Bellamy spluttered, and then sighed. “Whatever. Clarke, are you coming?”

Clarke shook her head at them, laughing. “Be sure to let me know if I have to start looking out for zombies.”

They left, and Miller put down the spell book he was thumbing through.

“This is a dumbass plan,” he pointed out, and, yeah, he had a point. “But, honestly, that was enough for it to be worth it. I can help try to end the world if we get more of that from Bellamy.”

“Awesome.” Murphy grinned at him, and then turned back to the list he was making of possible Latin words that might be useful to look for.

Miller was the one who found the first promising spell.

“Look,” he said, leaning over with the book. There was smudges of dirt or blood or something around the title, but three letters could clearly be made out.

“_Mor_,” Murphy read. “As in _mors_?”

“I think so,” Miller confirmed. “Meaning _death_. That’s pretty promising, right?”

Murphy grinned. “Fuck yeah, it is.”

He quickly typed the beginning paragraph into Google translate, and the spell seemed easy enough. You didn’t need anything specific, just had to chant the next paragraph three times.

“You or me?” he asked Miller, and Miller held up his hands.

“This is your dumbass plan,” he pointed out. “I’m only gonna be guilty by association here.”

Murphy was pretty sure that if anyone was trying to convict them of anything, Miller was already too wrapped up in this to be just guilty by association, but he didn’t point that out.

So Murphy cracked his knuckles and held out a hand, stumbling through the Latin lines three times.

And then they sat there, waiting.

And waiting.

And Murphy checked the news app on his phone and Miller looked out the window.

And then they waited some more.

And nothing happened.

Murphy sighed, sinking back into the couch. Of course nothing happened. He didn’t even know what the spell was supposed to do, but of course it hadn’t done anything. 

He probably should’ve felt a bit relieved that he hadn’t actually managed to end the world, but, well, no one’s perfect.

They spent the next hour or so flipping half-heartedly through spell books and making some notes on which ones might work, but ultimately they’d run out of energy to actually care for the day.

So when Miller suggested dinner and a movie, his treat, Murphy wasn’t even a little hesitant to accept. It wasn’t like they were making any progress just sitting here, and he wasn’t about to turn down free food.

It wasn’t until after the movie, when they were walking and Miller leaned over and kissed him, that Murphy considered that there might’ve been an ulterior motive to Miller’s invitation.

Murphy kissed him back for a few moments, lips moving against his as Miller’s arm wrapped around his back.

But then he was pulling away, staring at his friend.

It was a good kiss. Murphy wasn’t exactly complaining about the kiss itself. But, like, he had questions.

Number one was what the fuck.

“You—what?” Not exactly as eloquent as he might’ve hoped, but it got the point across.

Miller smiled at him, the same smile he’d given him over dinner, the one that Murphy hadn’t figured out until now just why it was confusing, and tugged him to the edge of the sidewalk, up against the side of a building.

“I like you,” he said, simply, like it was an easy thing to tell people. He brought up a hand, pushing Murphy’s hair back from where it’d fallen into his face. “Like, a lot. And I just couldn’t hold off on telling you any longer.”

Miller was staring at him, and Murphy figured out exactly why the way he was smiling confused him so much.

It was because it was the way he smiled at Emori, the way Clarke and Bellamy smiled at each other, the way Harper smiled at Monty that he was so clueless about.

Okay. He had to say something. He couldn’t just keep standing here staring at Miller.

First of all, this seemed a little fishy, right? Hadn’t Miller been going on just last night about some guy he was into and how he was going to make a move soon?

Wait.

Was that dude _him?_ Was that what was going on?

Miller was still staring at him, and Murphy still didn’t know what to say.

Was he against having a thing with Miller? In theory, no. A few months ago, he’d probably have jumped at this chance. Miller was cool. Miller was hot. He could be with Miller.

But he was in love with Emori. He hadn’t told anyone and wouldn’t even if there was a gun to his head and telling them he had feelings and emotions and a fucking crush was the only way to survive.

But Emori had come over this morning when she really didn’t have to, and he’d been going through some of the things she’d said last night that he hadn’t really let sink in because he was too focused on how she’d called him Bellamy’s bitch, and he was starting to think he might have a chance with her.

Going home with Miller, kissing him again, doing anything with this, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone.

So he stepped out of Miller’s arms.

“I have to go home,” he said, and cringed as he watched Miller’s face fall. “Me and Bellamy have plans. Um, come over tomorrow to help more?”

Miller beamed at him. “Of course,” he said, and then closed the space between them to pull him into another deep kiss. “I’ll see you then.”

Murphy stared at him as he walked away, then shook his head, starting back for his own apartment.

_What the fuck?_

He realized his phone was dead the next morning when he tried to check it, so he plugged it in on his way to the bathroom.

It was blowing up with messages when he got back.

Most were from Miller, variants of the same thing.

_I miss you._

_I love you._

_I can’t wait to see you again._

_I know we can make this work._

_Would you want to go out on another date?_

Murphy swallowed, ignoring those for the moment and flipping back to the other messages. Most were unimportant, but there was one from Emori.

_I’ll be there in half an hour_.

That was sent—he checked the time—fuck. Twenty six minutes ago.

He rushed around, throwing on some clothes and brushing his teeth and had just managed to throw a bagel in the toaster when someone started knocking on his door.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and grinning at Emori.

She offered him a smile then pushed past him into the apartment.

“How far have you gotten?”

Murphy sighed, following her. “Not far enough,” he said. “We tried one spell, but it didn’t do anything.”

His phone buzzed, and he opened the new message, grimacing at the heart emojis littering the message that Miller would be here soon. Since when did Miller use emojis?

“What?” Emori asked, and then she had his phone before he could protest. Something crossed her face as she scrolled through the messages, fast enough that he barely registered it, and then she was grinning at him again. “Since when are you and Miller a thing?”

Murphy groaned, moving into the kitchen for his bagel so he wouldn’t have to look at her.

“We’re not,” he said. “I mean, I don’t think we are? It came out of nowhere yesterday. I didn’t even know he liked me, and then suddenly he was kissing me.”

“Yeah,” Emori agreed, voice soft. “Wasn’t he talking about some Eric guy at the party?”

Murphy finished buttering his bagel and turned back around, shrugging. “I never got a name,” he said. “I mean, I assumed it wasn’t _me_, but like now I don’t know.”

Emori watched him for a moment, head cocked. “What spell did you say you used yesterday?”

Murphy shrugged, but started for the living room. “It was called _death_.”

Emori took the book from him as soon as he’d found the right page, and laughed.

And kept laughing.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“This doesn’t say _death_,” she told him, and Murphy’s gut sunk. “It says _amor_ not _mors_.” She grinned widely at him, and what little Latin Murphy knew was already telling him what he’d done.

“You put a love spell on Miller.”

Well, fuck.

Of course he did.

Bellamy, of course, chose that exact moment to come out of his room, stopping and glancing between them.

“What’s so funny?”

“John didn’t fucking translate a spell before using it,” Emori said, and Murphy groaned, throwing himself back on the couch and covering his face with a throw pillow so he wouldn’t have to look at Bellamy when he found out what a fucking idiot he was. “He put Miller under a love spell.”

Bellamy was laughing at him now too because this day couldn’t get any fucking better than it already was.

“Why are you even looking at spells?” he asked, and Murphy moved the pillow off his face so he could scowl at him.

“I told you,” he said. “I’m gonna end the world.”

Bellamy laughed harder. “You’re gonna end the world by making Miller fall in love with you?”

Murphy scoffed, throwing his pillow at Bellamy’s head. “Fuck off,” he snapped, and then considered it. “Actually, that might work. If I make enough people fall in love with me, I’ll have an army and I can use them to end the world.”

Bellamy fired the pillow back. “That’s a stupid idea, Murphy.”

Murphy flipped him off.

Bellamy was now way too invested in their end the world plans, which was the opposite of how this was supposed to go.

Of course, it wasn’t like he was helping. He was just sitting in an armchair laughing and texting, probably informing all their friends of Murphy’s latest screwup.

Murphy wasn’t sure exactly why he was sitting there. Not until the knock came that meant Miller had arrived and Bellamy and Emori both started laughing again.

“Fuck you,” Murphy said, standing up and glaring at them. “Both of you.”

Miller greeted him at the door with a bouquet of flowers and a heart shaped box of chocolates and a kiss that lasted just a bit longer than a kiss hello should’ve.

They’d decided he should just go along with it. Emori said the spell should only last a few days, and they were both single, so going along with it until it wore off wasn’t really hurting anyone.

The fact that she’d suggested it so casually kind of hurt Murphy, but he didn’t have feelings or emotions or any of that shit, so he’d steeled himself and agreed.

So when Miller kissed him hello, he kissed him back.

And it was a good kiss. Miller was a good kisser. But it felt wrong, that the only reason Miller was kissing him was because they were both too dumb to fucking translate a spell before casting it, and he wasn’t into Miller.

It also made him realize how glad he was that he hadn’t gone home with Miller last night. Because like, sleeping with Miller in general? Okay. Sure. He’d be down. But sleeping with Miller when he was under a love spell and couldn’t properly consent to anything? No fucking way.

When he finally managed to extract himself from Miller and move back into the apartment, Bellamy and Emori were both staring at them. Bellamy was grinning, barely keeping himself from cracking up, and Murphy discreetly flipped him off.

Emori, though. He couldn’t decipher her look.

“Miller brought chocolate,” he said, dropping the box on the coffee table and flopping back onto the couch. Miller sat next to him, too close, and Murphy resisted the urge to scoot away.

So this was his end the world team. Himself. Emori. Miller. And Bellamy.

(Bellamy was not, in fact, a part of the end the world team, but referring to him as such made him mad and he refused to leave because “this is my living room, too, Murphy, you can’t just kick me out.”)

Murphy took Emori through the list of potential spells that he and Miller had made the day before, trying to ignore the way Miller’s foot was dragging up and down the side of his leg. He let him hold his hand, though, because he wasn’t a complete monster and because this mess was like half his fault.

It took about half an hour before Murphy was itching to do something or move away from Miller or tell him that it was just a fucking spell, and Emori thankfully saved him.

“I’m hungry,” she said. “We should order Chinese.”

“Yes,” Murphy agreed, jumping up from the couch and touching a finger to his nose. “Shotty not picking it up.”

Emori, thankfully, was the next to touch her nose.

Bellamy was, technically, last, but he refused on accounts of him not wanting to order Chinese.

The order was placed, and they all had their tasks.

Miller’s task was picking up the takeout, which he didn’t embark on until he’d thoroughly kissed Murphy goodbye, leaving him a little breathless and a lot relieved that he’d get a break from the way he was looking at him for the next bit.

Emori’s task was looking through the spells because Murphy didn’t really trust himself with that anymore, for obvious reasons.

And Murphy’s task was to google every form of “how to start the apocalypse” he could think of.

(Bellamy’s unofficial task was to sit there and tell them how dumb this whole thing was. His official task was being motivation to get this done, not that he knew that.)

Google was surprisingly unhelpful. He got a lot more “how to survive the apocalypse” plans which would be useful in the future, obviously, but they had to figure out how to cause the apocalypse before they had to worry about surviving it. Maybe the government hid all the real apocalypse starting ideas on the second page of results. He wasn’t desperate enough yet to check.

The suggestions he did get were fairly useless for one reason or another, but he put them down in a list anyway. Maybe they could figure out how to make them work.

The most promising one, though, was a list of names, demons that could bring on the apocalypse.

Maybe he could outsource this issue.

Miller came back after a bit with the takeout and also Clarke, who he’d apparently found in the lobby.

Murphy let Miller kiss him, answered the _I missed you_ with a hum that he hoped sounded right.

“What are you guys doing?” Clarke asked, surveying their mess of books and papers.

Bellamy groaned, finally extracting himself from his arm chair. “Don’t fucking ask,” he said, and Clarke laughed as he dragged her from the apartment to wherever it was they’d planned on going for the day.

They discussed the plan over takeout (and over Murphy trying to subtly escape the game of footsy Miller was trying to play). They had a few Emori-approved spells they could try. Nothing world ending, but ones that could possibly help push it in that direction. They were going to spend the next few days researching the demons in Murphy’s list and seeing what they could do about the other potential ways they could end the world.

Being in love with Murphy had made Miller a lot more receptive to supporting their apocalyptic plans, but even he didn’t seem particularly confident about the whole thing.

Miller had to leave not long after to go to dinner with his dad. He invited Murphy, but Murphy was definitely not ready to meet the dad of the guy he’d accidentally put under a love spell.

After kissing Miller goodbye, Murphy sunk back against the door, letting out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Want to stay for dinner?” he asked Emori, smiling at her like he could possibly make her forget he’d just been making out with someone.

Emori smiled back. “Okay.”

Murphy spent the next few days going through his list of possible world ending ideas, and trying to figure out if Emori liked him or if it was all in his head.

Miller had to work, which meant he was out of planning for the most part and Murphy could avoid him most of the time as long as he answered his texts.

Emori, though, was over whenever she could be. They’d gone through a few spells. They’d just hung out with no world ending purposes involved.

He was starting to think she might actually like him, too, but he didn’t know how to figure it out. And just when he’d think he had, that she did like him, she’d mention his “boyfriend” and he’d be back at square one.

On the apocalypse front, things weren’t going much better.

The first result that had popped up was a concerningly detailed plan on how to use bath salts to start an apocalypse. It, however, would take several generations, so that was out.

Creating a world ending virus was also out of the question. None of his team had that in their skillset, and Clarke refused to ask her mom about it.

Nuclear weapons would work, except none of them had access to any and no one wanted to hack the government for him.

Every idea on his list was coming up empty, and they were running out of ideas.

Which left them with the summoning plan, which was somehow looking to be the most promising.

He’d found a demon of the apocalypse causing variety. Summoning him depended on star alignments, and, by any stroke of luck, they just had to wait until Friday for the stars to be properly aligned, which gave them plenty of time to get everything in order.

John Murphy was going to summon a fucking demon and end the fucking world.

He probably should’ve been feeling a little bad about that, but, really, there was no way this demon would actually be summoned. He’d just get to see Bellamy’s face when he saw the pigs blood all over the living room, and that’d be good enough.

“Where are we going?”

“I told you.” Emori turned, grinning widely at him. “You’ll see when we get there.” She turned back around, tugging at his hand. “We’re close.”

They’d been out picking up supplies for the demon summoning. It kind of felt like a date, and Murphy wasn’t complaining. He’d been about to suggest stopping for ice cream when Emori had realized where they were and had started hurrying him in a different direction.

It was getting harder and harder for him to convince himself to not do anything. She was just so amazing and he loved her and he just really wanted to kiss her.

He was pretty sure she’d let him, too, so maybe he would soon.

“We’re here!”

They’d stopped in front of a wall. It was a brick wall, he noted, but there really wasn’t anything particularly exciting about it.

“Cool?” he hedged, trying to sound as excited as he could about this random wall that looked exactly like a hundred others.

Emori rolled her eyes at him and moved down the dingy alleyway he hadn’t noticed.

“What are you doing?” he hissed, following her in. “Are you trying to get murdered?”

Emori laughed. “Don’t be a baby,” she said. “My brother and I used to come here all the time. No one’s gonna murder us.”

Murphy wasn’t exactly in agreement, but he kept following her further down the alley, and then through a creepy door, despite his gut telling him that you go in the door to get murdered.

“Oh,” he breathed, stepping through the door. “Oh, wow.”

Past the boring brick wall and down the dingy alley and through the creepy murder door, there was a garden. It was overgrown and full of weeds, mostly dead things now in the beginning of November, There were vines and some flowers that were still in bloom, so much green and orange and red.

It was beautiful.

Emori had disappeared, so he searched for her through the plants. He found her standing under a weeping willow, branches dangling around her. Her arms were outstretched, dozens of glowing blue butterflies perched along them, her eyes closed and her mouth stretched in a smile.

She stole his breath.

He stepped on a stick, breaking the spell. When she opened her eyes to look at him, her smile grew into one that was blinding, and he couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between them.

She moved her arms away as he moved closer, the butterflies adjusting but not flying away, and just watched him as he slowly cupped her cheek, as he leaned closer and closer.

When their lips finally met, it was like magic. He never wanted to stop, never wanted to let her go. He poured everything into his kiss, all the love, all the longing, all of it, and she kissed him back with just as much.

He pulled back first, when his stupid lungs needed to breathe, and they just stood there a moment longer, foreheads pressed together and arms wrapped around each other.

Emori broke the moment by stepping back, smirking at him. “What about your boyfriend?”

Murphy groaned, running a hand through his hair. “He’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

Emori shrugged. “He kinda is,” she pointed out.

Murphy’s phone chose that moment to ring, saving him from having to debate that very valid point, and he pulled it from his pocket.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and Emori glanced at the screen, cackling as she hit accept. “Hello?”

_“You fucking dick!” _Miller growled through the phone. _“I can’t believe you put me under a fucking love spell!”_

He listened to Miller rant on for a few moments, the reality of the spell having apparently run its course slowly sinking in.

When it finally did, a grin spread across his face as he hung up on Miller’s tirade and silenced his phone, slipping it back in his pocket.

“What did your boyfriend want?” Emori asked as he slipped his arms around her, her own moving to wrap around his neck.

Murphy grinned at her. “The spell wore off.”

She grinned back, inching closer. “So he’s…”

“Not in love with me anymore,” Murphy confirmed. “Honestly, he seems pretty pissed.”

“Good,” Emori said, and Murphy was about to ask why it was good that Miller was pissed at him, but then she was kissing him again and he decided it didn’t really matter.

Murphy had one more spell to try. It was supposed to make you stronger, which he figured would be a good asset for surviving the apocalypse. And for surviving Bellamy once he found out that he was officially dating Emori, but that was beside the point.

It should’ve been easy. He translated the whole thing, read it multiple times. All he had to do was chant the spell while holding half a lime and an unlit candle, and he was golden.

But something went wrong, because his throat was closing up and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t scream for Bellamy or Clarke in the next room and _he couldn’t fucking breathe_.

He couldn’t remember getting stung, but he must’ve. His epipen was in the bowl with the apples on the counter. He just had to make it from the couch to the counter.

He could do it.

He pulled in a wheezing breath, hurrying across the room as his vision started to narrow. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t fucking breathe.

He hit the counter at full speed, hitting the bowl with his hand. He meant to grab the epipen, but his hand wouldn’t listen and the bowl went crashing down to the ground near his feet and he went crashing down with it.

Time moved quickly and slowly.

He couldn’t breathe.

He blinked.

Bellamy was there. He could hear him, vaguely, yelling something.

Blink.

Wheezing breath, barely any air.

Clarke was there now, too. Someone’s fingers were brushing over his face.

Blink.

Pain, in his thigh. The epipen.

He could breathe again, gasping in air as his vision started to return. Bellamy had disappeared, and he could hear him on the phone.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Clarke told him, offering him a smile. “Bellamy’s calling an ambulance. Where’d you get stung?”

Murphy couldn’t speak yet, didn’t have quite enough air, so he just shook his head. Clarke sat with him until he could, her fingers brushing comfortingly though his hair as she hummed absently.

“I don’t think I got stung,” he finally managed, voice a harsh whisper. “I did a spell. I think I was allergic, I guess.”

He told her which spell, and she left him long enough to get the book. He confirmed the spell and she took a picture, and then paramedics were in the apartment and he was answering questions.

He was tired. He was really fucking tired. The doctors hadn’t been able to find a sting, so he’d undergone a bunch more allergy tests to try to figure out what had sent him into anaphylactic shock. Clarke had confirmed that it was the spell during one break between doctors and nurses, and Bellamy had pressed a hand over his forehead during the next, his palm burning as he read what Murphy assumed was a counter spell from Clarke’s phone.

Now the tests were done and he was being kept for observation for a few more hours, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

“Emori’s here,” Clarke said, voice low, and suddenly he was wide awake again. “I’ll go find her.”

“Emori’s here?” he repeated, glancing over at Bellamy. “How does Emori know we’re here?”

Bellamy sighed, stretching back in his chair. “Where do you think we got the counter spell?”

That…made sense. Of course they’d gone to Emori for the counter spell. Of course she’d know he was in the hospital and want to see him.

Fuck, he loved her.

“I know,” Bellamy said, and Murphy glanced over at him. Fuck. Had he said that out loud?

Bellamy offered him a tired smile. “I’m not gonna, like, string you up in a tree or anything,” he said, laughing slightly. “I mean, you just almost died. I can give you a break there. But if you hurt her…”

His trailed off threat was more than enough, but Murphy was already shaking his head.

“Never,” he promised, and Bellamy nodded.

Emori and Clarke arrived back then, and Emori froze in the doorway.

Murphy waved his fingers at her, offered her a sheepish grin.

“John, what the fuck were you thinking?” she demanded, crossing the room and throwing her arms around him. Murphy buried his face in her neck, breathing her in.

“I read it,” he insisted. “I translated it and everything. I didn’t know you could be allergic to magic.”

Emori pulled back. Her face was pinched and she looked like she wanted to say something more, but then she was coming closer again, kissing him, and he held on tight.

Murphy had been out of the hospital for a day, and now it was officially time to summon a demon and end the world. Bellamy had muttered something about a near death experience cancelling those plans, but they’d already bought the pigs blood and he wasn’t about to waste it.

The only issue was that the summoning needed five people to work. So far, they had three. Himself, Emori, and Miller.

Miller was still kind of pissed at him for the whole love spell thing, but he was more pissed at Bellamy for never missing an opportunity to bring it up, so he was very into painting the living room in pigs blood to get back at him.

The chances of this thing actually working were very low. Not even Murphy thought they’d actually be able to summon a demon. But the summoning itself was guaranteed to piss Bellamy off, and that was enough.

They still needed three people, though.

Miller had managed to ask out the dude that he was actually talking about on Halloween, but refused to get him involved in this bullshit this early in the relationship, so he was out.

Monty and Raven had already refused to cooperate in an earlier “end the world via cellphone hacking that then brainwashes people” plan and were no more keen to summon a demon.

Jasper was very down, until he found out it had to be Friday night. He had a date, apparently, and wasn’t going to reschedule, no matter how much fun demon summoning sounded.

Harper just laughed and told them they were insane.

Everyone had an excuse.

Which was how Murphy and the rest of Team Apocalypse found themselves seated on the couch of their last hope.

“So let me get this straight,” Octavia said, face impassive, after she’d listened to the entirety of what Murphy would fully admit is an insane plan. “You expect me to help you summon a demon to end the world just because it’ll piss off my brother?”

Murphy glanced at Emori and Miller next to him, and then back at Octavia. “Yes?”

“I need more pig blood,” Octavia called from the floor, waving a hand. “I can’t get this part of the pentagram quite right. And pass the tequila, too.”

Octavia had brought enough tequila to kill an army and about twice as many gummy worms, and was currently laid out on the floor with Miller, trying to paint a pentagram.

“That doesn’t look right,” Murphy pointed out from his place on the couch, reading through the instructions one more time. It would fucking suck if he was allergic to summoning demons, too. Octavia flipped him off.

They’d pushed all the furniture to the walls, cleared the whole of the living room floor for the festivities. Miller had had the brilliant idea to cover the furniture in sheets before they started, so the absolute mess of pig blood was contained to just the floor and themselves.

They still needed another person, but Murphy didn’t think it would take much effort to bribe someone from down on the street to come help once they had everything ready. Worst come to worst, Emori could make a post on one of her witchy sites and hopefully someone was in the area.

Murphy took another sip from his bottle of tequila and crossed to the spot where the table had been shoved, wrapping his arms around Emori’s waist and surveying the collection of summoning supplies they’d bought. There were a lot of candles, mostly, and a moose skull and other assorted bones.

“We have everything?” he asked, pressing a kiss against her neck, just below her ear.

She hummed in confirmation, leaning back into him, and before he could say anything else, the front door opened and the real show was beginning.

“What the fuck are you doing to my floor?”

Murphy turned around grinning at Clarke and Bellamy standing just inside the door.

“It’s _our_ floor, actually,” he pointed out. “And we’re summoning a demon.”

Bellamy caught his eye, staring him down, and Murphy just stared back. He wasn’t going to break first. He was summoning this fucking demon if he had to sacrifice Bellamy to do it.

“You’ll never summon it if your lines aren’t smooth.” Bellamy broke the staring contest to stare at his girlfriend again, betrayal seeping into his expression as he watched her cross the room. “Let me change and I’ll draw it.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Octavia said, throwing down her paint brush. “Miller and I are shit at pentagram drawing.”

“Hey.” Miller flicked some pig blood at her. “Speak for yourself.”

Clarke was back in a moment, dressed now in some of Bellamy’s old clothes instead of her fancy dress from her date, and then she was joining them on the floor.

“This is insane,” Bellamy told them, pointing at each of them like it might shame them into stopping. “You’re all insane.” He crossed the room to his door, swearing loudly as he stumbled. “Murphy, how many times have I told you not to leave your fucking shoes in the middle of the floor?”

“Fuck off, Bellamy,” Murphy yelled back, throwing the shoes at Bellamy’s bedroom door after it had slammed shut behind him. They clattered to the floor.

Setting up for a demon summoning was surprisingly easy. Clarke’s pentagram was much better than anything the four of them could have achieved, and the candles and bones and things were easy enough to place.

“Ready?” Murphy asked from his point of the pentagram. The others nodded and they all joined hands.

The chant was easy enough, too, with how often they’d all gone over it.

They were expecting to have a laugh after they finished, take some pictures and make some cryptic posts on Instagram. They were expecting to sit there until Bellamy came out and yelled at them some more until they were forced to clean up.

They were not expecting the lights to go out, or for a breeze to blow through the apartment.

They were not expecting a crack of thunder as the flames in the candles surged.

They were definitely not expecting a demon, large and shadowy and glowing, and wearing the moose skull as it’s head—or hat? Did demons wear hats?—to emerge from the centre of the pentagram.

Fuck.

It’d actually worked.

They’d summoned an actual fucking demon.

Holy fucking shit they were screwed.

“Hello,” the demon said, his voice rattling and echoing in Murphy’s skull. His hands tightened on Emori’s and Octavia’s, their grips tightening on his in return. “You have summoned me to bring forth the end!”

_Oh fuck oh shit oh fuck._

“Thank you for summoning me,” the demon continued, and Murphy could feel the words in his bones, somehow both burning and freezing. “We will do great things. But first, you must break the circle and free me.”

No one moved. Murphy couldn’t tear his gaze from the demon to look at the others, but he didn’t have to see them to know they were thinking the same thing.

No fucking way were they going to break the circle and free this demon. They hadn’t thought this would work. They hadn’t wanted to actually start an apocalypse.

Fuck, what had he done?

Murphy didn’t know how you un-summoned a demon. Could you un-summon a demon? Was that a thing? Could you just tell him to go home, that they called the wrong number?

Fuck, what were they going to do? How could he fix this?

He didn’t have a chance to figure it out, because something else happened first.

“What the fuck is with all this noise? And what did you do to the lights?”

He managed to tear his gaze from the demon in time to watch Bellamy’s door slam open, time moving in slow motion.

The door hit one of Murphy’s shoes.

The shoes that Bellamy always told him to put by the fucking front door and not in the middle of the floor where people could trip over them.

The shoes that Murphy had thrown at Bellamy’s door not too long ago.

Murphy’s shoe went sliding across the floor, probably soaked in pigs blood.

It went sliding.

And sliding.

And sliding.

Right through the pigs blood.

And taking the pigs blood with it.

Breaking the circle.

The look of shock and terror on Bellamy’s face was nowhere near satisfying enough when faced with a newly freed demon.

The demon roared, somehow surging even bigger. The lights from the buildings out the window flickered and then went dark. Murphy’s hair flew back, his grip on Emori and Octavia the only thing keeping him standing.

“You have freed me!” he crowed, words dragging needles down Murphy’s spine. “To pay back this debt, I will ensure that you survive the coming apocalypse.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness and taking the flames from the candles with him. A car alarm went off down the street, and Murphy couldn’t help but wonder whether it was just a coincidence or from their new demon friend.

He didn’t know how long they stood there in the darkness, frozen in fear and confusion and building dread.

“Murphy.” Bellamy was the one who broke the silence, voice low, almost growling out his name. “What the fuck did you do?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I probably will not be writing a sequel because I have absolutely no idea where I'd go from here.
> 
> Be sure to check out the rest of the fics in this collection!
> 
> I'll post a link to voting once that opens!
> 
> Have an awesome day!


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